Author's note: God, it's been a month since my last update. Where've the weeks all gone, eh?
For those of you who actually care, I can explain. The new sixth year timetable started on the fifth of June, and I had intended to get this chapter tidied up and uploaded after the dust settled. Turns out the dust didn't settle until the summer holidays; ie, now. And since I'm all hyped up after tonight's episode of Doctor Who (Cybermen and Daleks! Eeek!) and have more Irn-Bru in my system than is probably healthy, I decided, hey, why not?
So, reviewers and shadow readers, mein Damen und Herren, without further ado, I give you the next exciting (cough) chapter of Between Good and Evil. Let's see where Alynna's ended up...
Chapter 2: Lost
I was met by the harsh white glare of sunlight. Dazzled, I threw my hands up in front of my face. The wind that had been roaring inside the portal died away as I emerged, but I felt as dizzy as if someone had just picked me up and spun me around roughly. Nausea was strong and sickly at the back of my throat. It had sprung on me the instant I'd stepped inside. All I had seen in there was a confusion of shadows and swirling clouds. My head was spinning and my blood sounded like the ocean in my ears.
I never wanted to enter a portal again.
I had only the vaguest glimpse of a blue sky and high cliffs before the ground came rushing up to meet me. I threw my hands out to break my fall, but I couldn't prevent myself from sprawling face-first in the long grass.
I wasn't sure how long I lay there, with my hands outstretched needlessly and my nostrils filled with the smell of earth. I just waited. For the spinning to stop, for the sickness to subside, for my body to become my own again. And, gradually, it did. The spinning slowly died into a vague dizziness, then it was gone altogether. The nausea rose and fell erratically for a few minutes, and I was terrified I really was going to be sick, but then eventually that, too, managed to settle.
I lay there for a few minutes more, eyes closed, face pressed to the earth, the grass tickling my face. Only when I was reasonably sure that I wouldn't just topple over again did I even attempt to stand up. And even then I did it slowly. I stood still for a few moments, waiting, expecting to fall again, but my head was clear and my legs felt relatively stable once more.
Smoothing down my dress and adjusting the sword at my hip, I took a look about my surroundings, wondering as to where the portal had taken me. Two lines of sheer cliffs reared up on either side of me like outstretched arms, rising into mountains that almost had me encircled. Before me, the ground undulated away from the mountains, a never-ending expanse of long grass rippling in the wind. And beyond that...
Well, beyond that was the rest of the world. A world I had never really seen but had learned to fear and abhor.
A world I was now going to have to learn to survive in.
Alone.
That was when reality came caving on me again.
I remembered that my mother was dead. In my terror I had... not exactly forgotten my grief, but rather let my fear push it to the back of my mind. Now that I was away from the castle, it lanced through my heart with a cold and merciless force. A dreadful clamour started up inside me, a horrible churning of loneliness and emptiness, disbelief and despair. My body went numb. My very mind went numb.
The nausea returned, and this time I was sick. I retched into the grass at the same time I started sobbing - horrible, dry sobs that almost made me choke on the stomach acid I was retching up. Tears streamed down my face and my insides convulsed violently.
When it was over my whole body was shaking and my skin tingled hot and cold at once. The tears remained, however. Perhaps I was even crying more now. My gaze was fractured with tears. I couldn't see a thing. I raised my shaking hands to my mouth but was unable to keep in the long, shuddering wail that was fighting to get out. I could do nothing but allow myself to cry.
If I had cried anywhere near this much before in my life, I certainly couldn't remember it. My whole body was wracked by sobs, loud, desperate ones that shook my chest and hurt my head. They sounded more like screams than sobs, really. Tears streamed down my face in what I can only describe as torrents. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was amazed at how much I could actually cry. Though I was constantly wiping the back of my hand, or my wrists, or my palms across my eyes and cheeks, the tears kept coming and my hands just grew damper.
I really did have no idea how long I sat and wept for. Time just became something in the background, where seconds were indistinguishable from minutes and minutes indistinguishable from hours. For all I knew, I could have been sitting there and crying for a month. I certainly felt capable of doing so.
After a time, I had no idea how long, I finally managed to swallow back my last sob and draw my hand across my last tear. My head hurt again, but my heart hurt even more. I remembered reading once that it was good for you to cry, that the chemicals in tears flushed out all the toxins that accumulated when you were miserable. So why then did I feel no better? Why did I feel just as empty, just as lost as I had before I had started crying?
It just didn't seem real. Nothing did any more. A world without my mother was altogether too frightening, too dangerous. Not only was I going to have to learn to survive in this new world, I was going to have to do it without any guidance or any guarantee of safety. I felt like I was standing on a small rock in the middle of a grey, heaving ocean, and that sooner or later the waves would rise up and submerge me completely. Already they were lapping around my ankles. I could only wait for them to cover my head. I was trapped, and utterly alone. So alone I felt hopeless. After all, Mother was the only friend and mentor I had ever known. She was my only confidante, and I hers. Loneliness yawned darkly within me, loneliness and terror. Not the sharp, urgent terror I had felt when running from SeeD, but a duller, emptier one. One that echoed with far more despair; one that much, much more frightening.
When I thought about SeeD again, my mind immediately flashed back to the portal. I had entered it easily; who was to say that SeeD wouldn't be able to do the same? They hadn't been that far behind me. Surely they should have come through by now?
With that alarming thought, I jumped to my feet and spun around, expecting to see the three SeeDs emerging from the portal. What I saw, however, was that the entrance to the gateway was no longer shining and had suddenly turned dull and grey. It also looked strangely... solid.
Puzzled, I reached out one hand gingerly and touched my fingertips to the entrance. They came into contact with something hard and cold. It felt almost like stone, as if someone had covered the portal with a stone slab whilst my back had been turned.
For a few moments I wondered why that should have happened, but with the sudden rush of relief that danced through me, I found that it hardly mattered. Whether it was some sort of fault, or whether Mother had designed the portals to serve as an escape route as well as a servants' door, I didn't know and, for the moment, at least, didn't care. I had been given a head start.
I turned from the now-sealed gateway, staring out across the vast stretch of grassland before me. My mother had given me a chance, a chance to escape and survive. It would be foolish and almost... selfish of me not to take it.
Ultimecia Castle was behind me. There was no going back. Leaving the portal behind me, I started walking.
The sun was high in the sky, almost at its zenith, and I no longer felt as resolute as I had when I had started off. When I had walked through the portal I had emerged into the early morning, perhaps just an hour or so after sunrise. Now it was late morning and the day had grown hotter. Uncomfortably so. My dress wasn't exactly heavy or thick, but nevertheless it still stuck to my back and clung to my legs. My skin felt warm and damp, and my scalp was beginning to itch beneath my hair. I felt flushed and tired; my breath came in short gasps, even though I had not broken into a run once.
To make matters worse, I realised too late that the soft kid leather boots I wore had been designed solely for wearing indoors, and not for long treks across rugged land. They provided very little support, and every time I trod on a stone or somesuch, I could feel it jab into my sole as if I had been walking barefoot. And I couldn't be sure, but I had begun to think there was already a hole in one of the shoes.
And I just couldn't stop thinking about my mother. Every time my thoughts turned to her, I felt my throat close over and my eyes sting as a fresh wave of tears came. It was just impossible to believe that she was no more, that I would never again see or speak to her, never again be able to feel her comforting embrace. I was in a dream world; my body walked in the real one, but my mind and being were trapped in the shadows where reality and my nightmares flowed into each other and became indistinguishable.
Really, it was lucky I was only ever walking in one direction: my concentration was scattered to the four winds and I could barely see through my tears. The sun may have been shining brightly, but a day had never seemed darker. The heat was oppressive, and the land and sky together just looked too vast, too empty.
Why did you die? I asked her silently. Why did you die and leave me alone in this world - the world you always told me was evil? Why did you DIE?
I gasped and stopped dead in my tracks; then the tears came all over again. I was so terribly ashamed of myself. I was angry at Mother for dying. I shouldn't be angry at her. It wasn't her fault. I had no right to be angry with her.
I was terrified that she still existed somewhere, in some afterlife, some enchanted dream of Heaven that I had imagined when I was younger, all cloudy spires and angelic hosts. I was terrified that she was there, trying to find some measure of peace at last, but had felt my anger, my silly, selfish anger, and now hated me for it. Or maybe it made her sad, and she was crying as much as I was now because she believed I hated her.
"Oh, Mother, I don't hate you." I didn't even realise I was speaking aloud at first. Maybe I hoped that by speaking my words aloud they would be carried up to Heaven and she would hear them. "I don't hate you. I love you so much, Mother. Mother, please. Please believe me, please hear me. I don't hate you... I don't... I don't... I..."
My words withered away into a fresh stream of sobs.
By midday I was leaving the arms of the mountain range and the land was beginning to descend. That is to say, there were still hillocks and ditches, but on the whole I could feel my steps taking me down a gentle slope. The foothills of the mountains, I supposed. And before me, in the distance, a deep-blue strip of ocean glittered between the horizon and the sky. Between that strip and I the land was wide and empty. I hadn't seen any signs of habitation ever since leaving Ultimecia Castle at dawn, for which I was glad; but at the same time it puzzled me. Surely by now I should have come across something?
I stopped at the crest of the next hillock. Despite the light breeze that danced inland from the sea, my skin still felt uncomfortably hot and damp. I held out one arm, noticing the bright pink smears on the skin.
I really hadn't left the castle prepared for a journey at all, and the thought that there was no way I could have been able to foresee what was going to happen was little consolation. At this rate, my boots were going to fall apart and my skin was going to scorch right off. I could feel my cheeks growing hotter every time I wiped the perspiration from them.
Where do I go now? I wondered, looking out towards the ocean. Then, Where can I go now?
Just a few miles before me, the land ended at the sea cliffs. To my right I could see that the sea swung inland until it disappeared behind the arms of the mountains. I looked down disconsolately at my soft boots. Mountains were out.
If I could have known where the portal was going to take me, I might have been able to use what knowledge of geography I had to work out a destination. But with no settlements, no signs and no roads, I literally didn't know where in the world I was. As it was, the only way I really could go was to my left, where the grassland continued to stretch away into the distance until it disappeared into a haze of heat.
I cast one look behind me. I was actually surprised at how far I had walked. The mountains looked low and hazy in the distance, and I couldn't even see the portal any more. I wondered just how far I'd come. It was definitely more than a mile, of that I was certain - but how many exactly? With the oppressive sun beating down on me, my skin sticky with sweat and stones pressing into my feet with every second step, it had seemed about a hundred, but I had the feeling it was not even a fraction of that.
I wondered how many miles I would have to walk until I found somewhere safe. From the stories Mother had told me, it was likely that I would be walking forever.
So, with nothing behind me and nothing but uncertainty before me, I started walking again.
I hadn't gone very far at all, perhaps only a hundred paces or so, before I heard a noise behind me. A strange rustle, as if something was chasing through the long grass behind me. The entire morning had been so silent that this sudden baffling sound had me spinning around at once.
I saw nothing.
I looked out across the area immediately behind me, trying to spot anything that might be hiding behind the long grass. Nothing was, but that did nothing to calm me. It felt as if there had been something just behind me - and not seeing it was much worse than seeing it.
I frowned, not at all satisfied with what my eyes were telling me, but nevertheless, I turned away.
Just my imagination, I thought uneasily. It had been so quiet, and I had been so fearful, that my mind must have just made up a noise because it had expected one. I had once read a book in the castle library on illusions and the tricks the mind was capable of playing.
Something seized my leg.
With a cry, I pitched forward, but barely a split second later, I was jerked back sharply. I threw out my hands to grab something, but clutched only grass and pebbles. I kicked my legs, trying desperately to dislodge myself from my assailant, but the grip around my ankle only tightened until it was painful. Then, with a sudden sickening sweep in my belly, I felt myself being flung upwards before landing on my back. Pain shrieked its way up my spine and stars burst behind my closed eyelids. But panic took over my brain and made me jump to my feet almost instantly. Barely was I upright, however, than something struck my body with a sure and heavy force, and I was sent sprawling into the grass again. I lay there, dazed, but a shadow suddenly blocked out the sun above me and I had to roll to one side to avoid it. I cried out as my back ached in protest and a stone dug sharply into my side. At the same time, however, I heard whatever it had been slam into the ground where I had been, sending a shower of pebbles and dirt over me.
Staggering heavily to my feet, I spun around to face my attacker - and screamed.
Protruding from the ground before me was one of the most horrific things I had ever seen. A shapeless, skull-like head, utterly bare of flesh but corded with sinew, peeked out from the grass. A pair of small, yellow eyes glared out at me from dark sockets that seemed much too large for them. Before the head, a pair of gigantic hands almost as tall as I was had thrust their way out of the ground, their huge, bony fingers flexing dangerously.
I knew instantly what it was, though I had only ever seen it before in pictures.
A Vysage!
The left hand suddenly pointed in my direction. Before I realised what was happening, there was a white flash above me, and a bolt of jagged lightning streaked down from the sky and struck me. With a scream I fell to the ground, writhing uncontrollably under the full force of a Thunder spell. Purest agony rushed along my nerves in the form of electricity. My limbs jerked ceaselessly; sparks exploded before my eyes; white-hot pain surged in my head.
It was a miracle I even managed to find the strength to clamber to my feet. My mind was still reeling in pain. Maybe that was why I wasn't really thinking about what I was doing as my still-twitching hands fumbled for the hilt of my sword. I clutched, twisted and pulled, but the sword wouldn't dislodge. Dismay flashed through me as sharply as the Thunder spell. I shook the hilt and gave it another sharp pull. But I pulled too sharply, and my arm was at too awkward an angle. A bolt of pain shot up my arm. The blade fell to the ground as I clutched my aching wrist.
Too late, I realised I had belted the sword to the wrong side - to my right when it should have been my left.
Ducking down quickly, I retrieved the blade. At the same time, I felt a sudden rush of air, and looked up in time to see one of the giant hands descending upon me. I screamed, and in a moment of blind terror, I raised the sword above my head. My sore wrist burned in pain again and, in consternation, I realised that despite the thinness and seeming-fragility of the blade, it was much heavier than it looked. So it was probably my strength failing me more than anything else that brought it sweeping down.
I missed. Or rather, I might as well have missed it, for all the good I did. The flat of the blade glanced against the right hand, but snatched away immediately as my strike carried me forwards. I uttered a sharp noise of despair, but turned around again at once. I swung the blade as the hand twisted and grabbed at me again.
It was a clumsy blow, more like a hack with a wooodaxe than anything else, but it drove home, into the space between the thumb and index finger. There was no blood, but I must have harmed the hand at least a little, as it balled into a tight fist and receded.
I didn't even stop to celebrate or be shocked, but started running.
I didn't get far, though, as I tripped on the hem of my dress and stumbled, just as the other hand moved. Not wanting to be on the receiving end of another Thunder spell, I tried to dodge to one side, but my bothersome hem got under my feet again and, before I knew it, I had hit the ground once more.
That was when the head struck.
Its mean little eyes flashed and its jaws opened wide as if it was trying to speak. At once, my eyes started watering and a low, dull ache - as if from a migraine - started up behind them. I drew my hand quickly across my eyes to clear my vision, but although I managed to wipe away the tears, everything remained clouded. Lines and shadows which had just a second ago been clear and definite suddenly blurred and swam into each other. Black rippled at the edges of what remained of my vision, then encroached upon the rest of it. Before I was able to really grasp what had happened, I could see absolutely nothing, stumbling about in utter darkness.
A Blind spell.
Now I really was panicking. My hand groped desperately on the ground for my sword, but no matter how many times I blinked and rubbed my fist over my eyes, I just couldn't see anything, and every time my fingers closed over only grass, anxiety mounted in my chest, harder and heavier, until I couldn't even breathe properly.
I heard a low growl from somewhere, felt the ominous rush of air as one of the hands slapped out at me again, then was hit once more by another Thunder spell. My head was buzzing and my body was in acute agony as I fell face-first to the ground once more. I threw out my hands to break the fall - and hit something cold and metallic.
From somewhere at the back of my agonised mind, I dimly recognised it as the hilt of a sword - something I needed. I seized it. Lifting it, and myself, I swung it blindly. The blade drove into the grass. I pulled at it, desperate to get it free, but one of the hands must have hit me again because I felt a stinging, bruising pain on one side and I hit the ground yet again.
This time, I couldn't get up.
My mind had shut down to everything but the pain. Pain crackling through my veins; pain up and down my left-hand side; pain in my jaw; pain in my wrist; pain at the back of my thigh; pain in my back. White-hot, branded on my brain like a torturer's iron, burning in every nerve and every joint. I had never, not once, in my life been in such complete agony. Every other thought, every other sensation, had been completely obliterated. All I could do was curl up in the grass and sob and scream.
I felt a dimly familiar rush of air above me. What did it mean? Something bad. I couldn't remember. I couldn't think. I was going to die. The pain was atrocious. I was going to die.
I'm so sore... please, please... I'm just... so sore...
The rush of air ceased abruptly. I heard the sound of clashing steel. I looked up, surprised even through my agony, but still couldn't see anything. The air was full of turbulence. Footsteps running through grass. Groans and hisses. A loud report. A whole hideous cacophony.
It was too much. I needed to escape. Escape. I tried to struggle to my feet, but the world suddenly gave a shuddering lurch beneath me, and my terror and pain conspired together to rip away all consciousness.
"Oh! Look, Caleb, I think she just stirred!"
Something prodding my hip.
"Let her alone, Jiff. Poor lamb needs her rest."
Footsteps. A door closing.
Silence, but for the sound of breathing.
"Pretty kid, ain't she?"
Broken silence.
A pause.
"...S'pose. Looks a bit ill, though. Bit yellowish. Bit flushed, too. Looks like she caught the sun."
Another silence.
"What was she doin' away out at the edge?"
"Dunno. Found her bein' set on by a monster."
"Vysage, was it?"
"Yeah."
Vysage? That sounded familiar. Two people were talking: a woman and a man. Talking about a Vysage?
Familiar...
Feeling horribly groggy, I realised that I was lying down on what felt like a bed. Not a very comfortable one, though; the mattress beneath me felt hard and lumpy... why should it feel lumpy?
I cracked open one eyelid. Two pairs of eyes swam in and out of sight.
"Look, Caleb! She's awake!"
A blurred face leaned in towards me.
"Hey there, chicobo. You feelin' okay?"
I wanted to answer no, that I was sore, sore all over - but as soon as my mouth opened, a horrific clamouring started up in my head and all feeling went out of my limbs. The face dimmed before me and I slipped into blackness once more.
When I awoke again, just a few seconds later, it seemed, I could feel an arm wrapped firmly around my shoulders. In a strange juxtaposition, my brow and cheeks were being patted gently with something cool, and a soft voice was crooning in my ear:
"There, there, sweetheart. Just you take it easy. Give yourself all the time y'need." A pause. More patting. "There. Good lamb."
"M-Mother?" I whispered.
Somewhere in the fog at the back of my head, something told me that there was something wrong with saying that, something badly wrong; but I couldn't for the life of me figure out why, and trying just seemed like too much of an effort at the moment.
I heard a soft chuckle. "'Fraid not, pet." The dabs at my face and neck ceased. "Now, you able to see anything yet?"
I had no idea what she was talking about.
"I... I don't... I... what?"
"You open your eyes for me, yeah?"
I didn't know why I had to, why it was so important, but I complied nevertheless. It took a strange sort of effort, as my eyelids felt unbearably heavy, but eventually they opened to varying depths of shadow. Everything was blurred at first, and I felt a strange, dull roll of terror from somewhere, but eventually my sight returned and settled on a faded patchwork coverlet that had been thrown over my legs. I glanced up, and realised that I was sitting up on a narrow bed in a low, timbered room with a sloping ceiling and unpainted walls. It was sparsely furnished, and the only light came in from the windows and from the lamp on the bedside table.
The arm was still around my shoulders. Turning my head, I finally saw the speaker I had mistaken for my mother. It was a tall, sharp-faced woman without a spare ounce of fat on her body, greying hair held out of her eyes by a faded blue cloth. A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth.
"Can you see okay?"
I nodded slowly, trying to work out where I was. I didn't recognise the room at all, nor did I have any idea how I could have come to be there. I was positive that I hadn't been there before I'd closed my eyes. But if I hadn't been there, where had I been? I didn't recognise the woman who held me, and nor did I even have the feeling that I should.
"You okay, love?" she asked.
"I..." I struggled to find the right words. "I... don't really know..."
"Got any feeling in your hands and feet?"
Hesitantly, I moved my feet from side to side and flexed my fingers. She seemed satisfied with that.
"Good goin', good goin'. Now you just take it easy, y'hear?"
I nodded, bewildered. I didn't have the slightest clue what she was talking about. But I didn't complain, either. Somebody was grinding down rocks in my head, and I could barely hold onto a single coherent thought. They just kept slipping away like water through my fingers. All I had to hold onto were vague impressions, the shadows of emotions and sensations: grief, sickness, pain - and fear, always fear. But I had no idea why I should even think of them.
"Where...?" Why was it such a struggle to speak? "Where am I?"
"Safe."
A strange sort of relief washed over me. "Good..." The word left my mouth in an almost lethargic sigh.
I leaned back into the cool pillows, hoping that something could alleviate the awful, throbbing pain in my head, or at least tell me where I was so I could stop thinking about it. My thoughts just kept running in circles. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't remember how I had got here, or even where I had been before that.
Beside me, I heard the chink of china against glass and opened my eyes to see the woman filling a beaker with water from a jug next to me. She pressed it into my hand gently.
"Drink up," she said softly. "You look like you could use it."
I took the glass and sipped. I hadn't realised how thirsty I was until I felt the water soothe my throat. It suddenly felt unbearably dry and rough. I drank the water down quickly, too quickly, and splashed half of it down my front. I barely noticed until I had finished, then I was embarrassed. I could feel my face growing hot, and I barely managed to look at the woman from under my eyelids.
She laughed, but not unkindly. "Feelin' any better now?"
I didn't know, so I stayed silent.
There was a pause, then she spoke again. "What's your name, sweetheart?"
"Alynna." I didn't even stop to be cautious.
She smiled. "Pretty name. Suits you, so it does."
I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say to that, so I said the only thing I could say: "Thank you."
She laughed again. "Ain't you the polite one?" She offered me a dry hand, and I shook it hesitantly.
"What's your name?" I asked, out of courtesy.
"Oh, my name's Meryl." She gave me a lopsided smile. "Not as pretty as yours, eh, Alynna, but it goes, don't it?"
"I like it," I said truthfully.
Meryl smiled and patted my head affectionately. "You're a sweet kid." She drew back and gave me an appraising look. "A sweet kid that could do with a change of clothes, a wash and some bandages, though."
I looked at her blankly. She didn't seem to notice, however, as she continued to regard me almost critically.
"I'll go get you some clean things from my room," she said eventually. "You, meanwhile, get yerself over to the bathroom - it's right opposite on the hall - and get washed up. You look like you've been takin' tumbles all over the place."
She guided me out of the bedroom by one arm and ushered me through the door opposite. I found myself standing in a tiny, chilly bathroom, furnished only with an old-fashioned toilet, a small tin tub pushed into one corner, a chipped sink on one wall and a cracked mirror hanging above that.
Wondering what Meryl had meant when she had said I'd needed a wash and some bandages, I made my way over to the mirror and peered at my reflection. I soon saw exactly what she had meant. My hair was tangled and caked with dirt, and my cheeks were smeared with mud and blood. But even that couldn't conceal the large, dark bruises on my jaw and neck. In fact, my entire left arm was dark with bruising, the black-and-purple discolouration livid against my skin. Looking down at my hands, I saw that my fingers were bruised, the nails chipped and darkened with dirt, and that my palms were bloody and filthy. To make make matters worse, I could feel a dull twinge in my right wrist every time I moved it. Dismayed at the state of my reflection, I looked down at myself. The hem of my dress was muddied and fraying, and my boots were battered almost to pieces.
Meryl was wrong. I didn't look like I had been taking tumbles all over the place. I looked as if I had been dropped from some incredible height into a pool of mud.
Then I remembered the Vysage, the pitiful fight I had put up, the Thunder spells, the slaps and strikes, the Blind spell...
When I looked at my reflection again, I saw that the area around my eyes was still pink and swollen. A half-remembered conversation from earlier floated through my mind, the conversation between Meryl and the man she had called Caleb. I recalled what Caleb had said about my looking ill. "Yellowish", he had called me. And he hadn't been exaggerating. Where my skin wasn't purple from bruises or red from sunburn, it was a sickly sallow colour.
Bluntly put, I looked terrible.
I reached out my trembling hands for a cloth, ran it under the single tap and gave my face a vigorous scrub. The dirt and dried blood came off easily enough, but the bruises and the sallowness remained. The bruises I could understand - I had taken a severe and literal beating in that encounter with the Vysage - but I just couldn't understand the sallowness. I couldn't remember ever seeing myself such an unwholesome colour before.
I washed myself all over, relishing the cool of the cloth against my burnt and sore skin, wiping all the grime and sweat away. When that was done, I bent my head over the sink and rinsed my hair as thoroughly as I could, combing through it with my fingers. As I towelled my skin dry, I realised that I felt at least a little better for the wash, though I wished fervently I could have done more for all the bruises, and for the dull ache that rolled rhythmically across through my temples.
I heard a knock at the door. Opening it, I found Meryl standing in the hallway with some faded garments slung over her arms. She gave me a grim smile.
"I take it you've already seen yourself."
I nodded mutely.
"Quite a sight, ain't it? You've sure been through the wars, my pet." She handed me the clothes. "Now, you get these on and I'll look out something for those bruises you've got. Then you can get downstairs, yeah? Dinner's on, and I reckon you could do with somethin' decent in yer tummy."
Goodness, I couldn't even remember the last time I had eaten.
I attempted a smile, though that was the last thing on earth I felt like doing. "All right. Thank you. I'll be down as soon as possible."
She grinned back. "Good girl." She gave me a half-amused, half-critical look. "I think we'll need to get second helpings down you. I've seen stringbeans with more paddin' than you."
A little while later, I was making my way down a narrow and rickety flight of stairs, holding the hem of my borrowed skirt above my ankles. The day's events had left me with a new-found distrust of long skirts and dresses. I resolved to do something to my dress when Meryl had washed it and given it back; take up that bothersome hem, most likely.
The clothes I was wearing now were Meryl's, a white, long-sleeved blouse and a faded patterned skirt cinched in at the waist with a wide leather belt. They were much too big for me and I felt very swamped indeed, but they were clean and comfortable, so I didn't see much reason to complain.
The stairs took me down into a long room that spanned the entire ground floor. What furniture there was had been placed to separate the entire floor into three separate areas: one, a living area with an aged settee and a battered old television set; the second, a dining area with a table and a collection of mismatched chairs seated around it; the third, a kitchen area taken up by a large cooking range, a stone sink and a small wooden cupboard.
There were several people milling about in each area. I saw Meryl and a young boy busy at work in the kitchen area; a girl about my age laying cutlery on the table in the dining area; a man with a short, white beard and a youth who seemed to be somewhere in his early twenties at the door, talking to a handful of men in well-worn overalls and mud-caked boots. Nobody really noticed me as I came downstairs, for which I was glad, and I took the opportunity to slip unnoticed over to the kitchen area.
As I approached, Meryl looked up from the pot she was stirring in and gave me a smile.
"Ah! Good timin', love; soup's nearly ready."
I watched the young boy as he rummaged in the cupboard, feeling uncomfortable for standing doing nothing.
"Do you need any help?"
Meryl shook her head. "Jiff's gettin' the bowls and Colleen's already settin' the table. Just you relax, Alynna. You're our guest here."
I smiled awkwardly. "Yes... well... I don't really know where here is."
Meryl gave me a surprised look. "Come again, chicobo?"
"I'm not really sure where I am," I repeated.
"Did you get lost or somethin' today?" she asked, ladling soup out into one bowl.
I was taken aback. I didn't know what to say. I had never expected Meryl to ask me that, and now I was dismayed. I was loath to tell her the truth, but at the same time, I was loath to lie to her, especially after all her kindness.
What do I say? I thought desperately. What do I do?
Meryl must have seen my hesitation and interpreted it for something else, for she chuckled lightly.
"Nothin' to be ashamed of, y'hear? We've had plenty kids out here before who've gotten lost. Kids from the city, usually, off on some grand day out. That what happened to you, Alynna?"
Before I knew what I was doing, I was nodding my head. "Yes." I felt my skin flush at the lie even as I spoke it.
"Thought so." There was a smile in her voice. As she filled another bowl she said to me, "You're at the Wilburn Hill Power Farm, the main source of electricity for all the desert settlements. My man, Caleb, he's the manager. Has been for thirty years," she added proudly. In a quieter voice she continued, "It was him what rescued you from that Vysage today. Lucky for you he was on his routine land survey - he does that every few days, y'know, to make sure all the equipment's working and that there's no monsters lurking around. Right away out at the edge, you were too, almost at the mountains. Another few miles and you'd have been a goner."
"Oh." There was really nothing I could say to that. I thought I should feel relieved that I had been within the perimeter of the Power Farm, but instead a dark chasm of fear opened up in my chest as I imagined what might have happened had that Vysage caught up with me earlier in the day. I shuddered and tried to shake the possibilities from my head.
I made myself focus instead on the name Meryl had given me: Wilburn Hill. I knew enough geography to know that Wilburn Hill was in eastern Galbadia, just at the edge of the desert. That meant that Northern City, formerly Deling City, the capital of the Galbadia continent, lay to the northwest. I felt considerably more comfortable knowing where I was now. It was a significant improvement to the disorientation and confusion I had felt that morning when I'd had no idea where I was.
Now I could work out my next destination. I just needed to figure out which way would take me the furthest away from SeeD.
Dinner was extremely companionable. In fact, I don't think I had ever eaten in such a congenial atmosphere. Meryl and her family seemed to talk about anything and everything that crossed their minds. Meryl introduced me to them all. The man with the white beard was her husband Caleb. The boy who had been in the kitchen area with her was their youngest, Jiff. The girl I had seen was their daughter, Colleen, and the young man I had seen earlier with Caleb was their eldest, Daren. The men they had been talking to, as I found out from listening, were hired hands who worked for Caleb on the Power Farm.
I was anxious in case someone started asking me searching questions, but Meryl seemed satisfied with what she thought she knew. I was ostensibly a girl from the city who had been out for the day and got lost. It sounded terribly implausible to me, but Caleb believed it. From what he told me, it sounded as if it wasn't all that uncommon to have groups of young people from the cities going out into the remotest parts of the country for fun and subsequently getting into trouble.
"You ain't the first city-kid I've had to rescue from the monsters, and I'll be damn surprised if you're the last," he told me.
Really, my dilemma over being truthful or lying was solved for me, as Meryl and Caleb seemed to have made up their minds about me as soon as they'd seen me, and had made up my story for me. I didn't really have to invent anything at all; all I really had to do was nod and say "yes" from time to time.
Nevertheless, I still felt a deep pang of shame every time I did so. These people were being so kind to me, so hospitable, and I was repaying that kindness with falsehoods. I felt worse than awful.
But would you rather tell them the truth and be turned out of the house, or worse, turned in to SeeD? a voice whispered in the back of my mind. I shuddered and went back to my soup.
After dinner, I insisted on helping the family wash up the bowls and cutlery and clear them away. I figured that if I had to lie through my teeth to them, I could at least pay them back honestly in some small way. Truth be told, I had never washed dishes in my life, and I was terrified that I would slip up somehow and arouse suspicion, but I never did. And Meryl was so grateful for my help that I wanted to cry in shame.
With everything cleared away and with the sun sinking behind the hills to the far west, Caleb, Colleen, Jiff and Daren squeezed up on the single settee to watch the television, whilst Meryl looked out a first-aid kit for my injuries. A Potion was enough to assuage the worst of my bruises and back pain, and she gave me a bandage to support my wrist. It wasn't broken or even sprained, as I had feared, but after taking a close look at it, Meryl told me that I had twisted it badly enough for it to be a bit of a problem over the next few days.
"Just rest it tonight and we'll see how it is in the mornin'."
That done, we went to join the rest of the family in the living area. I had never actually seen a television in my life, let alone watched one, and I was almost fascinated by the way it seemed to be such a natural part of this family's life.
"What's on?" Meryl asked as we approached.
"News," Caleb said. "Some power surge in Esthar caused an explosion; a cave-in in the Gaulg Mountain mines and -"
He was suddenly interrupted by an exclamation from the television screen. The newsreader was looking down at the monitor in front of him with an expression of pure shock. His gaze flickered from side to side as if he was reading something rapidly. He was silent for a moment, then he looked up towards the camera, with the look of one who was unsure whether he was awake or dreaming.
"Th-this just in," he said, and I was sure that the tremor in his voice was nothing to do with bad reception. "Literally. Just in. We have just this minute received a message from the outlaw faction SeeD, stating that Sorceress Ultimecia, ruler of the world, is dead."
There was silence in the living area, a stunned, shocked silence. Meryl and Caleb and their children all looked at each other in utter disbelief. Mouths opened, worked noiselessly, then shut again. Eyes stared, blinked, turned towards the television, then stared again. No one seemed able to talk until Caleb finally repeated one, tremulous word:
"D-dead...?"
Meryl was close behind him. "Ultimecia?"
Had I imagined it, or had I heard a note of repressed hope in her voice? Was I imagining it, or could I see the shadow of repressed hope on all their faces?
"You don't think SeeD managed to get into the castle at last, d'you?" Daren whispered. "After all these years..."
"A hoax," Colleen insisted, shaking her head. "It's a hoax. I... I can't believe it..."
Meryl and Caleb looked at each other seriously, though, like the first delicate ray of light that breaks through a storm cloud, I could see that hope struggling to reach the surface of their faces. I could only watch them, perplexed. I didn't understand. I didn't understand anything. Why hope? Why did they look... almost happy?
"It's over, then," Caleb said, and there was no sorrow in his voice, only immense relief, as if he had just laid aside a terrible burden after carrying it for many miles.
"What if they're lyin', Dad?" Colleen whispered.
But Meryl was shaking her head. "Why would they? Why would they choose now, of all times, to lie? No. No, I think... I think they're tellin' the truth. I think, after all these years, someone's finally managed to send that devil woman back to where she came from..."
I heard nothing after that. I could see Caleb and Meryl and the others all talking together rapidly, but I couldn't hear them over the noise of the blood roaring in my ears. I saw their faces, saw that light, the light of hope and happiness desperate to break through and shine on them.
They were rejoicing. They were rejoicing that Mother was dead. And I could only watch them, shocked into silence, wanting but unable to scream at them, "That's my mother! My mother!"
Oh, God.
Mother.
Mother.
For the first time since waking up, my mind truly returned to her. Something heavy and hideous slammed into me as I realised that my ordeal with the Vysage must have pushed all of that morning's events to the very, very back of my mind.
And they returned with a vengeance.
I remembered seeing Mother for the last time in the art gallery, that terrible moment when I had realised she was dead, running for my life through the castle, my grief when I had left the portal. Everything, every sight, every thought, every feeling, came crashing down on my head like the sky caving in on me.
That's my mother! My mother!
My mother...
"Alynna!" Meryl's voice suddenly cut across my paralysed mind, sharp and concerned. "Alynna, you've gone white as a sheet! What's wrong?"
Only then did I realise that my hands had clenched into two tight fists at my side. My eyes were stinging. The world was swaying beneath my feet. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.
"Alyn -!"
Meryl's voice was lost as I crumpled to the floor and dissolved into tears.
Author's note (again): Heheheh... the dreaded linking chapter. Wasn't this the most boring thing ever? Bear with me, folks, I'm trying to build up some characterisation and world exploration here, and I promise that Chapter Three will have some action. Oh yeah, and the plot will actually make a fashionably late appearance. And who knows? Maybe Alynna'll be able to stay on her feet for longer than five minutes.
Fingers crossed.